


roses are like knives

by charmolypi



Series: roses are... [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, M/M, also drug mentions like usage and selling, and i think linsday gets mentioned real briefly, if u like a slowburn with pining this is the fic for u bc man..15k and all they do is pine i swe ar, jerem and geoff are there but mostly just bg mentions, mavin doesnt really apply until halfway through??, not FAHC, nothing really explicit in terms of violence, oh!! also trans jack but thats a minor detail, though mentions of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 12:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10513446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmolypi/pseuds/charmolypi
Summary: Ray lives up to his childhood dreams of running a flowershop. Sure, he might’ve gotten off track for a while there when he started drug dealing, but hey, he got there eventually.He has his best friend there, and he gets to sell weed as a casual thing, so really, he should be happy with how his life was turning out.There’s also the mystery that is the Vagabond that keeps Ray from being happy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting around waiting for me to finish proofreading and doing final edits for a while now, and now that it’s after all my midterms, I spent my spring break slowly working through it. It’s been a slow burn but I’m very proud of it, actually; considering all the rewriting I did for this.
> 
> I originally started writing this as an attempt to get a better grasp on how I write Ryan/Vagabond...and then this turned out to be largely Ray. Welp.
> 
> This takes place in the same verse as roses are thorny, so there are events that overlap but otherwise can be read as a standalone.

### (deadly and lovely, we bleed)

Ray doesn’t know how old he was when he first got the idea stuck in his mind; but for as long as he can remember, his dream was always to grow up and run his own flower shop. He loves all flowers— his favorite being roses, mind you— but he wasn’t going to discriminate about flowers.

….He might’ve gotten a bit off track when he around the time he was fifteen or so, pulled into a life of drug dealing, but what can he say? It made him good money, and he wasn’t really all about school anyways. His parents didn’t seem to care about what he was doing, so why should he care about what he was doing?

Admittedly, that kind of self-destructive attitude got him in trouble more than once (what a surprise, who could see that coming?); and by the time he was twenty, he had a pretty large sum of savings and the need to get away from a place where people knew his name far too well, so he moved to Los Santos.

Perhaps not the most perfect place, sure— as if the amount of crime that went on in the city wasn’t infamously known— but it was probably one of the most fitting places for a person like him. He may not get joy out of using a gun, but he knew how to kill a person with one if he needed to, so really, it wasn’t like he was in that much danger.

The sooner someone shot him, the better, was what he would tell anyone who thought he was crazy for moving there. YOLO and all that shit, that was the way he lived life.

Ray quickly realizes that the small apartment he has, while nice for being cheap, is not really working well with the entire trying to grow weed to sell for a living plan, and that’s when all his childhood dreams come back to him.

(Besides, he can kind of afford something like that now, so why not? If he’s successful enough he can put drug dealing on the side, which is a win-win situation in his opinion).

Ray tracks down a place, located on the corner of Morningwood Boulevard— and if you don’t think that the name of the street alone sells him on it, you’re wrong. He has to spend a chunk of his savings on it to fix it up and all that, but all things considered, he gets a fairly decent deal on it. He totally didn’t threaten the seller, nope. Not at all. How dare you accuse him of such a thing.

...In all fairness, Ray did have a point— no sane person was going to be buying the place anytime soon.

It’s falling apart a bit, but overall he’s happy with the place. He’s getting the chance to set up his own shop, grow weed, he’s got a place to sleep, and he can still play games. What’s not to love about that deal? Listen, it might not be ideal, but Ray considers himself a pretty low maintenance guy and easy to satisfy.

The place has a nice roof that he turns into a small greenhouse rather quickly, and granted he knows it won’t be enough; he can at least supply some parts of his shop’s selection with the stuff he grows on his own.

But he can open up shop within weeks, and he knows he’ll have to depend on selling drugs for a while longer— Ray knows that truthfully, he’ll never be able to completely drop it. Despite that, he can sleep the most satisfaction with his life he’s had in a long time.

* * *

Vagabond is a recognizable figure in Los Santos. Some fear him, others revere him. He doesn’t really care either way— but as long as he’s in the mask, he knows he’s too easily recognizable.

So today he’s just ‘normal’ civilian Ryan Haywood— he liked to claim that he passed for a perfectly normal civilian for the most part, though others might argue otherwise. Ryan shrugs it off easily and doesn’t care about what people thought it in the end, especially because it doesn’t take much for the Vagabond to get people to shut up. He double checks the piece of paper he’d scribbled an address down onto before heading inside the shop.

Ryan doesn’t care much about what jobs he does, or why he does them, or how he gets them done, which means that it isn’t very often he turns jobs down. Today’s no exception; he likes to be prepared, to have the upper hand when possible, so that’s why he was here. To get a good scope out on his target.

Ray Narvaez Jr.— his target— was apparently related to some sort of conflict related to drugs dealings. Honestly, Ryan didn’t care for the details because he didn’t care about such things, he was just here to figure out what was the best way to murder this kid and get this job over with.

Unfortunately for Ryan, all plans for that go out the window as soon as he spots the kid behind the counter, and he heads straight for the closest display of flowers to look like he’d intended to actually get something (well, he did, as part of the casual act, but actually more so now that he needed a moment to get his thoughts in order).

Ryan has hardly any time to do that though, because the kid approaches him— he refused to acknowledge him as anything more than just a kid because that means he’s acknowledging him as something other than a target, it means potential attachment (even if it’s just subconsciously) and he can’t get attached to anyone, not in this line of work.

He also questions his actions because it’s not like the shop isn’t busy at the moment— Ryan did his research to make sure he’d be there at a busy time, so he can blend in as just another nameless face. The kid is either really dumb or really confident to leave the counter unattended (there are other options there to explain his actions, but they don’t occur to Ryan).

“You like roses?” He asks, and if Ryan’s being honest he prefers lilies, he just happened to be currently standing in front of roses since that was what was closest to the door, but he just nods slightly to acknowledge the other. “Sweet, they’re my favorite. That’s why there’s more of them than anything else in the shop right now.” He thinks he sounds a bit sheepish, embarrassed to admit that to a stranger, and Ryan spares him a brief glance, which turns into a lingering gaze.

(The kid looked so—

He stops that thought before it can form into anything else. No getting attached to the target, not right now— or ever, really. He was the Vagabond, a madman, a wanted murderer; and he felt absolutely nothing for this stranger).

Ryan quickly averts his gaze back to the display, praying that he’ll move on soon so he can slink out as soon as possible. He lets himself be persuaded into buying a dozen of red roses, anything if it means that he can get out; and takes his leave quickly so he can work on formulating a plan— he’ll give the flowers to Meg or someone else who will appreciate them more than he will.

(Ray, on the other hand, wonders what gorgeous golden god just walked out of his shop and if he’d get to see him again).

* * *

Ray nearly has a heart attack one night, when he goes up to the roof to smoke a blunt— and finds a large figure in a mask waiting there for him.

(Which, wasn’t really the smartest thing to do to begin with, should he just happen to stumble off the roof given that it lacks any railings; but again, he doesn’t exactly have a sense of self-preservation anymore).

You couldn’t live in Los Santos without at least somewhat knowing some of the big name criminals, even ones that were as mysterious and a criminal history as long as the Vagabond’s was. That being said, he knows of him by name and vague descriptions and rumors, and that’s about all Ray’s aware of.

Ray just stares at him, throat dry and wondering if tonight was the night he was going to die. Hey, if he was going to die now, at least let him go out on a high note (haha— yes, that was a pun). All jokes aside, Ray’s tense and uneasy (he’s heard, anyone who pays attention has heard, rumors about how the Vagabond is known to torture) but waits— because he knows he can’t even hope to escape him if he’s here to kill him.

The masked man stares back at him, gaze meeting his evenly, as if judging him. He hardly has time to blink before something is shoved into his hands without a word— right, he forgot the silence thing was part of the whole Vagabond persona— but he’s heading down the fire escape and into the night before he can even question it. Ray’s too dumbfounded to even think about calling after him; he’s far gone by the time he snaps out of it, really.

So Ray does the reasonable thing in this situation, and stares down at the sniper rifle that had been shoved into his hands. It’s ridiculously colored (a shade of bright pink and horribly tacky), but he thinks he likes it a surprising amount otherwise.

He then notices the slight, stinging pain in his hands, and does a double take— he’s given himself a papercut from a note tied around the trigger guard. He carefully picks the note out, brows furrowing as he reads the nicely typed out note.

_‘Kid, get out of Los Santos. You’ve already stepped on the wrong toes in these parts._

_Not everyone will be kind enough to warn you.’_

Huh. How kind.

…You know, as kind as a serial killer (with a list of crimes longer than anything that Ray can think of) can get. Which makes Ray suspicious as to why such a wanted criminal wouldn’t just kill him— was it just part of his game? Was it part of something bigger at hand? He couldn’t even begin to know what his motive was, and it makes him feel a little uneasy.

Ray can guess why he’s already got a target on his back— interrupting the drug trade, even with a presence as small as his, tends to do that; that was all part of making a name for yourself in a city like Los Santos. He shrugs to himself as he slips the note into his pocket, carefully handling the sniper rifle as he takes a test shot at a bottle on a rooftop some ways away.

It handles nicely, but he has no intentions of using it (at least, not for the intentions it was probably given to him for). Nor does he have any intentions of heeding the warning he was given. This risky ‘I have no fucks to give anymore’ attitude would catch up to him one of these days, and maybe then he’d finally learn his lesson, but until then—

(The bright pink sniper rifle gets stored under the front register for safe keeping).

* * *

So maybe, Ryan has a problem.

He’d really, really, really hoped that if he’d given a warning, the kid would just take off, he could pretend like the job as done, and whatever inkling of emotions he was feeling could go away; problem solved.

But no, things weren’t that simple— either he was stubborn, or he didn’t care (Ryan wasn’t sure which it was, or if it was a combination of both; and if he should admire that fact).

And really, it’s not like there’s too much harm in taking out the drug lord that had hired him; it’s not like the Vagabond hasn’t gone back on jobs before (granted, rarely, because it was dangerous to do dicey things like that in his line of business). Los Santos could always use a little more excitement, the man had it coming eventually, and it’s not like there wouldn’t be another group that would surface out of all of it. It was more or less the natural order of things anyways, he was just...having a slight influence on how it would go.

It might be just a coincidence that after that day on the roof, Ryan finds himself visiting the flower shop on a regular basis, pondering what was keeping him there because certainly no sensible person had that much of a death wish— and maybe that’s it, he’s not sane. His reason to stop by the small shop is certainly not to check if he’s still alive, not at all; just to check if he was there or looked like he might be leaving. Nothing else— anything else was a weakness he can’t afford.

He properly introduces himself (always a risk, but no one could connect James Ryan Haywood to the Vagabond, the Madman, the Mad King of Los Santos), and properly learns the kid’s name. He always refuses to acknowledge Ray by name in his mind, attempts to keep some sort of self-imposed distance, detachment, just to keep himself sane (and safe).

His visits slowly become more frequent (but not yet a permanent part of his routine), buying roses and lilies that become pieces of a puzzle, makes small talk and jokes; and they become something that is barely more than acquaintances— in Ryan’s opinion, at least. At night, it isn’t unlikely for Vagabond to be watching the shop from another rooftop, when he doesn’t have other matters to attend to.

(He’s being pressed to do the job, because he doesn’t usually take so long to do business— is the Vagabond going weak, people whisper rumors behind his back— he’s reminded that anyone else could be the same job; and that is the trigger to make up his mind).

So maybe, Ryan has a problem. Maybe he happens to decide to kill a drug lord. Maybe he asks for a favor when requesting help to murder a drug lord and his lackeys, just to keep a kid safe.

Dollface shakes her head at him when the Vagabond asks for some assistance, but agrees nonetheless; because it is not often he requests her help, he doesn’t like her getting involved in his messes. She is both good and bad help, because her help comes with the price of her prying for details.

“Who knew that one of Los Santos’ most feared criminals could be a softie?” Meg teases, always teases; because that’s how their friendship works— and she can get away with it, because she knows him better than almost anyone else in this city.

Who knew, indeed?

* * *

Ray doesn’t usually care for the news, it’s always the same old crap; but sometimes he’ll turn it on just to amuse himself and see what bullshit the news has to spew. The news drones on in the background as he fiddles around with his DS, gaze flickering up towards the TV screen absentmindedly. The stylus falls from his hand, and his breath catches at the headline—

**_DRUG LORD FOUND DEAD: WORK OF VAGABOND AND DOLLFACE CONFIRMED_ **

A shiver runs down his spine, he doesn’t pay attention to the droning of the news story as he stares at the screen. It had to be a coincidence, certainly, just a convenient coincidence.

Maybe it wasn’t even the person who had wanted to kill him and it was just some skirmish between groups, or a drug lord that wanted their competition to be hindered. That would make sense, that was all it was. There wasn’t any other reasonable explanation for why (that was probably the problem though, Ray was trying to be reasonable about a criminal murdering someone).

Dollface wasn’t a super familiar name to him, but if it wasn’t the Vagabond on his own, then it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with Ray, right?

He wonders how he’s supposed to feel about this. He feels as uneasy as he did the night on the roof.

(The sniper rifle doesn’t move out from its spot under the register).

* * *

It doesn’t take very long for Ray to realize that he kind of needs help to run the shop. Naturally, he calls up the one person he thinks he can count on to help— Michael. Michael Jones, who, for all his stubborn denial; has a hard time saying no to him (and Ray knows it). It doesn’t take much pleading for Michael to agree to move out to Los Santos.

Michael fixes things up a bit for him, which is nice, and they still get to game together, which is also nice. And Michael’s actually decent at his job, which means there’s less for Ray to have to stress about. Win win for everyone.

And there’s the added bonus, that he can do weed deliveries much more easily, and with a little less worry now that he (probably) doesn’t need to worry about being killed...well, not really because it was Los Santos, so more like not any more than he would usually be concerned about it. Is he really worried? Probably not, given his entire ‘no fucks given’ attitude— so Ray could care less, regardless of if there’s a target on his back or not.

There’s a bit of a pattern to most of his days— Ray can expect the golden god known as Ryan Haywood to stop by almost every day at three (pick up red and black roses, a half dozen of white lilies, and purple tulips as well on Fridays), talk to him for a bit before leaving again. Ray questions where he gets all the money from, but figures he must be some rich CEO or something, partially because Ryan looks like he could fit the part, and partially because there aren’t many other explanations as to why he’d have so much wealth.

Rinse and repeat.

* * *

Ray loves his delivery runs. Ray loves them because it gives him an excuse to ride his Akuma, and he loves the feeling of riding it, zipping down streets. Late night runs he likes because they’re more dangerous, and he loves the adrenaline that runs through his body while he doesn’t give a fuck; at ease with the fact that he can blend in with the rest of the night, in the darkness illuminated solely by some city lights.

He’s returning from one of said deliveries when something (or rather, someone) makes his blood go cold. He’s speeding down an alleyway when he almost (quite literally) runs into the Vagabond— leaning against the wall like he’s waiting. Which Ray thinks is freaky and he hopes at best a coincidence.

He can see a gleam of recognition in his eyes, barely noticeable through the mask and with the darkness of the night; and for whatever reason, they feel strikingly familiar to him, though Ray can’t quite place it. He thinks he should say something, but his mind is currently a mess and he would like to not say something stupid—

“Thanks for not killing me. Or something like that. I guess. If that was what you did.” He blurts out. Nailed it. 11/10 totally not dumb sounding. Good job, Ray.

He doesn’t get an answer, or any sort of indication that he was heard and panics and thinks he might be planning on actually killing him, because clearly that’s what his silence means. “Listen, I really like living right now, so I mean if I have to I’ll suck your dick or whatever you’re into, man.”

Ray hates himself. Why was he a dumbass who couldn’t keep his mouth shut for five seconds?

(For someone who claimed to have no self-preservation, he was awfully desperate not to die...his reason for not wanting to die may or may not be related to a certain Ryan Haywood).

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when hears something that barely resembles a snort, which Ray will take as a personal victory, because hey most people can’t say they’ve met the Vagabond, made him laugh, and lived to see another day.

The other is watching him quite closely, Ray realizes— flinching when the man reaches into his jacket because he expects him to pull a gun or something out; instead, he produces a rose and offers it to him. Which, Ray recognizes to be the man's recent calling card, if the news is to be trusted.

Ray takes it because he doesn’t want to accidentally offend him by not doing so, and really he figures staying on his good side is best if he doesn't want to die, so—

(He doesn’t really think much about why he has roses or why he’s giving one to him in particular; because hey if he doesn’t have to suck a dick, he’s not going to complain about it. Absently, Ray akins the Vagabond to be kind of like a more evil version of Tuxedo Mask— it’s the roses that really bring together that analogy).

The Vagabond simply just nods to him before turning to leave, and Ray watches him disappear back into the shadows of the night.

* * *

Jack Pattillo is an interesting person. Which doesn’t say much really, because Los Santos is full of interesting people and the Fakes are made up of some of the most intriguing characters in the city.

They are fascinating, surely, but not exactly the kind of company Ryan prefers to keep around, and he prefers being a lone figure so he will turn down any request to join them— that being said, they’re also the reason he’s met some of his acquaintances around the city.

But a job is a job, and the Fakes pay nicely, so the Vagabond accepts a job request from them and agrees to meet up with Geoff. Geoff Ramsey, the Kingpin, is one of the people Ryan has known in their line of work the longest, since they both still lived back East— how well they know each other, on the other hand, is debatable.

He’s a little caught off guard but not too surprised when Jack Pattillo — one of Ramsey’s dogs, his right-hand woman—  is waiting for him instead.

“Geoff drunk again?” He greets, taking a seat across from her.

“No, some business just came up. I hope that isn’t any problem.” Ryan can tell that there’s more to it than that but leaves it at that. It didn’t matter to him, he figures he’ll find out in due time anyways, so just makes a gestures to signal for her to continue.

She pulls out a file from her briefcase, flipping through it as she begins speaking— apparently done with trying to edge around the topic. “We’ve heard that your actions have been...questionable, recently. This won’t become a matter I need to concerned about, will it, Haywood?”

Ah, so that was the real reason she was meeting him— for the intimidation factor. Not that Vagabond was scared of much of anything these days, but she was generally their default when it came to handling things of that manner.

“Have your connections not picked up on a pattern? Because I can assure you one is there.” He’s amused, always subtle, pushing hints in people’s direction and leaving the rest of the work to them. There was one commonality to his ‘betrayals’ as of late, and nothing in it related to the type of work the Vagabond typically did with the Fakes.

Jack, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be in the mood for his games, lips pursed. “Just tell me if I should be worried about my boys getting hurt by your hands.” Ryan chuckles, hands raised.

“I have no interest in making the Fakes my enemies. Will that suffice?” Jack’s still watching him through narrowed eyes, but seems to be satisfied enough with that answer; giving him a sharp nod as she passes the file over.

“We’ll see you on Friday at nine. Don’t be late.”

* * *

Ray doesn’t make the connection between mysterious (masked killer with the creepy vibe) Vagabond and mysterious (but in a sexy and hot DILF way) Ryan Haywood for quite a while.

He rolls a blunt in between his fingers and takes a hit, because it’s his day off today and he wants to unwind— he gets Sundays off and Michael gets most Mondays and Wednesdays off, that’s how they worked that out. He’s relaxing, flipping through channels on TV as he contemplates ordering some take out because he’s hungry and can’t cook to save his life.

He’s decided on ordering some Chinese and is in the middle of trying to decide if he wants to switch to playing some Call of Duty when he notices something on the screen as he switches through channels— flipping back to the news so he can do a double take. He squints at the TV, a brief and blurry depiction of a corpse, and something clicks in his head, a piece of the puzzle falling into place when he notices that the body is adorned with roses and lilies that are black and white and red—

Ray’s stomach drops, quickly changing the channel to try and distract himself.

It’s just a coincidence.

It has to be.

(He knows deep down it's not).

* * *

Ray isn’t the smartest person, he’s proven that much to himself time and time again. He’s not smart, but he isn’t dumb either, though he has his moments. He’s sharp, when he needs to be.

He’s got the tact of a flashing neon sign— he’s pretty sure that a three year old might have more tact that he does. That probably says a lot. There’s also the lack of self-preservation in there too; and the blatant fact that Ray doesn’t really give a fuck about much of anything.

That doesn’t mean he wishes he had more tact that blurting out, “I know what you are” to Ryan when the man stops by the following day, a rare occasion when the shop was empty besides the two of them.

In all fairness, Ray had thought about it beforehand. He had stopped to think about whether or not he should acknowledge it or pretend that he was still blissfully oblivious to what was probably nothing more than a coincidence. And he’d decided on going with the latter until he could decide what he wanted to do with this information.

Unfortunately, his big mouth didn’t get the fucking memo and couldn’t shut up for even a minute, so here he was. Ray, you big dumb idiot—

The hairs on Ray’s neck stood as the other’s gaze swept over him, the slightest smirk— he’s pretty certain he sees something flash in those blue eyes. And oh, those eyes, a lovely shade of blue that he’d grown to love— how did he not realize it sooner, only one person had eyes as memorable as those.

(The way he’s currently being looked at is really hot, he’s not going to lie. He’s glad he could figure out he apparently has a thing for attractive, serial killer DILFs; good to know. This was obviously the most useful information in this entire situation. Clearly).

“Would you like to clarify that statement?” They both know what he meant, but Ray replies anyways; his voice a little shaky and out of breath, blood pounding in his ears.

“You...You’re him. The Vagabond. A-Aren’t you?” He really hates how he sounds at the moment, fucking christ. You’d think he was confessing he had a crush on him or something—which isn’t exactly false, per say— not admitting he’d finally figured out who he actually was. Ryan doesn’t speak for a few moments, instead just staring at him before answering the question with one of his own— the answer subtle within it, but one that had been known from the start. “Are you afraid of me?”

Ray speaks with more confidence this time, surprising himself at how steady his voice sounds as he meets his gaze evenly. “No.”

“No?” He blinks slowly, his expression reminding Ray vaguely of a cat watching its prey. The thought of being the theoretical prey in this situation isn’t very comforting. “Why?”

“I could ask you the same. Why didn’t you do your job? Why would you warn me? Why not kill me?” Really, Ray should sound more grateful of this fact, but then again the thanks that he’d given the other night probably covered that one.

Ryan says nothing, lips pressed into a thin line as he scoops up the flowers from the counter, looking at Ray for a moment with a thoughtful expression.

“I’d tell you if I knew.” He says as he leaves the shop.

* * *

Several days pass without any further sighting of Ryan or the Vagabond, until he receives a mysterious text.

**[From: Unknown]** Meet me on the roof, quarter to nine.

It’s late, settling into the night time lull. Ray is in the middle of changing the water in the flower vases and preparing to close up for the night when he receives the text. He doesn’t know the number, but he can guess who the number belongs to— he’d also question how he got his number, but he figures a guy like him can probably get information like that pretty easily. Which should probably concern Ray a lot more than it does, but well, he wasn’t dead yet, so he figured Ryan probably wasn’t going to start trying to do so anytime soon.

He doesn’t reply to the message and simply pockets his phone as he goes back to his routine. When he and Michael are done closing up, he simply just says he’s heading out for a while— the Jersey man eyes him skeptically (because since when does Ray actually go outside?) before nodding and going up to their rooms.

Ray’s anxious, sure; because he doesn’t know what to expect, but heads up to the rooftop a few minutes early. It doesn’t matter because Ryan’s already there waiting (creepy Vagabond skull mask and all), smoking a cigarette.

It’s a little unsettling, because Ray can’t see his face; and he has to depend on the rest of his body language to get a sense of how he’s feeling, since he has a feeling Ryan won’t talk to him as long as the mask stays on.

Ryan snubs the cigarette before offering a hand out to him— Ray hesitates for a brief moment before putting his hand in his, deciding to trust him (another dumb decision in his life, but considering he wasn’t dead yet, he considered his likelihood of survival pretty good. God bless him for not giving a fuck anymore).

Ryan leads them back down the stairwell and into the alleyway, where his bike is waiting; slipping a helmet onto Ray’s head before he can say anything. Ray hated helmets, but he realizes it’s meant to keep his identity secret because it’s probably not great if the Vagabond gets spotted with some random civilian. He climbs onto the bike and gestures for Ray to get on behind him, and then they’re speeding off into the night.

He tries not to think too much while they drive and puts most of his focus on keeping a grip on the bike; they’re driving down the streets far faster than what he knew was legal, which says a lot considering how speedy Ray could be. Instead, he opts to stare down the streets, watches them pass rivers as the dirt path becomes rockier; Ray can figure out that they’re headed to Chiliad, but what for is beyond him. The bike comes to a slow stop and he looks up, breath catching in his throat. He scrambles off the bike to take a step forward, get a better look.

He can count the number of times that he’s been to Chiliad on one hand, and none of those included going up to the top of the mountain. He’s amazed by the view, even if it’s limited by the darkness of light— the bright city lights in the distance help balance it all out.

Ray whips his head around when he hears a light chuckle— Ryan’s gotten rid of the skull mask and hung it on the handlebars of the bike. “The view is nice, isn’t it?” He doesn’t reply because he’s too startled by the painted mask on his face; what the fuck is wrong with you, why would you have that on underneath a mask?

(No, Ray does NOT think it’s hot, shut up).

Ray and Ryan sit down, close enough that they’re nearly touching, and quietly talk as they overlook the city. They talk about just a little bit of everything, and Ryan points out the various stars to him in the sky. Ray laughs at how much of a dork he is— this is the Vagabond, a wanted criminal for fuck’s sake, and apparently local star nerd— though secretly finds it impressive that he knows that kind of stuff (considering he’d never given any fucks about his own education).

Ray knows he’s shivering because it’s fucking cold at night, even in April; and even though he has his purple hoodie, it wasn’t nearly thick enough for sitting on a mountaintop at night. He really hopes his teeth aren’t chattering as he shoves his hands into the pockets and debates whether or not he should see if he can get away with subtly trying to cuddle up to Ryan for warmth.

The feeling of something weighing on his shoulders firmly makes a decision for him with an outsider third opinion, and he peers up at Ryan as he adjusts the jacket draped around him. It’s way too big on him, but it’s warm and Ray buries himself into it as he mumbles his thanks. He can see faint blood stains on it, but it doesn’t smell unpleasant— it’s a mixture of leather and the tang of the cigarettes he likes to smoke (and something else Ray can’t quite identify).

Ryan’s looking at him with a dopey smile, and he can feel the blush creeping up his neck and focuses on staring out at the city instead. Ray can hear his low, rumbling chuckle and ignores the fluttering in his stomach as he leans against him, and they fall into a comfortable silence.

It’s late when they finally decide they should head back— but Ryan clasps a hand over his eyes, claiming that he has a surprise to show him before they head back. He rolls his eyes but blindly follows the gentle hand leading him a short distance away from where they’d been sitting, and Ray is pleasantly awed at the revelation when his sight is returned to him.

There are several rose bushes growing there, and he drops to his knees to get a better look at them. He’s gentle with them, fingers barely brushing against the petals— they’re white roses, and he wonders how they’ve managed to go unscathed in a place like this. His eyes dart up towards the other as a thought comes to mind. “Did you plant them?”

“No.” Ryan shakes his head, eyes entirely and intensely focused on him, which in turn just makes Ray feel more self conscious about his actions. “I came across them the other day, thought of you. You like it?” He sounds almost a bit hesitant as he asks that and he’s quick to nod in response.

“I love it.” Ray assures him, chest light with how genuinely the other smiles in response to that— so bright and warm, more than the sun or anything else that Ray can think of; and it makes his heart stop and his head spin and generally just feel good, and all he wants to do is bask in it forever (and make sure that Ryan smiles like that more often). They head home after that, and as they drive along the streets, he feels like he might be flying— and it's not from how fast he’s driving.

Ray knows he’s far too deep in, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

* * *

Ray and Ryan meet up on a more regular basis after that; usually out and about Los Santos, early in the mornings or late at night because their schedules conflict most days otherwise. Except on his day off, which they sometimes spending gaming together at Ryan’s place— partially because Ray doesn’t want him to see what poor conditions he lives in, and partially because Ray doesn’t want to have to deal with Michael if he were to catch onto how (or more importantly, with who) Ray chose to spend his free time with.

Not for now at least— later on, he might be more alright with being more open about the exact status of their friendship; but for now, Ray doesn’t want Michael being nosy and having any extra reason to give him shit.

So for now, Ray is content with the status quo of his life.

* * *

It’s a stormy night when Ray is finally given the chance to meet Dollface.

Of course, he doesn’t actually know it’s her, not initially (rather, he can guess who she is, but doesn’t get it confirmed by Ryan until later on).

It’s stormy, so Ray know he’s not going to be busy— but he opts to stay open instead of closing up early. He does, however, tell Michael he can finish early since it was unlikely they were going to be busy and therefore there was no point in requiring the both of them to work.

It turns out to be the right choice.

The door opens with a loud slam that shakes a nearby display hanging from the wall, and Ray jumps and wonders if today’s the day he’s getting robbed. He’s not, and he turns to look back at the doorway. The first thing his eyes focus on is the blood dripping onto the floor— ugh, stains— and then they dart up to the source of the blood. Ray tries to not flinch at the unmasked figure standing (well, leaning) in the doorway and his stomach sinks and twists anxiously, worried despite this was probably just part of everyday life when you were a wanted criminal.

Ray thinks about how it’s a great thing that it’s so empty inside and outside with all the rain; otherwise, this would probably seem suspicious as fuck.

“Can I leave him here with you?” She says to him, and Ray nods as he gestures her to follow.

“Yeah, just...bring him back here, to be safe.” Ray unlocks the door for one small backroom, and runs back to the front to grab the first aid kit. She’s got him settled and awake, talking to him softly when Ray returns.

“Hey Rye, buddy.” She’s careful in leaning him against the wall, and Ryan groans softly in response. “I gotta clean up our mess, so I’m going to leave you with Ray.” Ray has to hope the only reason she knows his name is because Ryan’s mentioned it before or something.

“Ray?” Ryan slurs, clearly struggling to keep his eyes open as his eyes dart around to try and find him. “It’s not safe for him.”

(Ray furrows his brows and wonders what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, because no fucking shit, really? It wasn’t safe in Los Santos? Since when was living in Los Santos generally considered to be safe, he literally lives every day of his life in danger Ryan—)

“It’ll be fine. I’ll come catch up with you later, okay Rye-Rye?” She’s heading for the front before Ryan can argue, and Ray puts the kit down on the floor before following her out so he can close shop and catch up to her.

“Hey.” She turns to look at him, a curious look in her eyes. “Uh, next time, just bring him around to the back door. It’s less suspicious and stuff, you know?” She pauses before nodding and grinning at him and takes her leave. Ray sighs as he locks the door and flips their sign to closed before hurrying back to Ryan. Despite what he says, he sincerely hopes there is no next time to worry about.

Ryan is still fighting to stay conscious, but thankfully Ray manages to keep him awake and gets him to remove his jacket and tell him where his injuries are.

Ray has to wrap up his shoulder and waist in gauzes (he doesn’t get distracted by his body, nope what makes you think that? How dare you, accusing him of ogling someone while they’re bleeding out).

“Alright, I think you’ll be good.” Ray admires his (slightly sloppy) handiwork, careful not to aggravate any of his injuries as he places a hand on his back. “Rest up here for the night, okay? I’ll wake you up when I come down to open up shop.”

Ray wonders how he’s going to clean up all the blood that’s probably started to stain the wood— maybe he’ll ask Ryan since he probably knows— but decides that’s a problem for future Ray to handle in the morning.

Ryan’s long gone by the time Ray returns in the morning, any signs he had been there no longer remained, the shop returned to its normal appearance. He’s disappointed, but not surprised.

On the bright side, at least he doesn’t have to clean up blood.

* * *

Ryan keeps himself distant from Ray after that.

He’s watching and observing from a distance because he’s worried that somehow, his stunt the other night could be traced back to Ray, and he doesn’t want him to get involved any more than he already is. Los Santos was already dangerous enough as it was.

(Ryan acknowledges that he’s being selfish by distancing himself.

He’s selfish. Ryan is selfish, a sinner, dug himself too deep into this hole and embraces his personal hell that he’s created through all of this.

Ryan acknowledges he’s being selfish in reaching back out to him, but he justifies it in that he shouldn’t be a jerk to Ray, after all he’s done for him.

And maybe, just maybe he can keep him safe if he stays close).

* * *

Ryan doesn’t show up that day, or the following ones.

Ray supposes he can’t be surprised, even if he misses his daily presence. He tells himself he’s probably just resting up and stuff after being injured like that. No biggie.

He takes to watching the new a lot more regularly— a habit he’d picked up on after making the connection of Ryan-Vagabond (it's also something Ray does when he’s worried about him like this).

Vagabond reappears in the news after the second day, which at least appeases his worries. Ray knows he could easily reach out to him if he wanted, but he respects Ryan and gives him his space.

A message comes through on the fifth day, much to his relief.

**[From: Ryebread]** Have you seen the news?

Ray had not— he’d finished closing shop not even a half hour ago and had been debating whether he should have dinner, or if he’d skip and just game— so he puts that debate on hold and puts the new on the TV.

Ray eats dinner while he waits for whatever it is that Ryan wants him to see. Sure, he could just demand to know, but he knows that Ryan likes these sort of games, to just dangle hints in his reach and let Ray do the work; so no matter how nicely he asks, he won’t tell him something as small as this.

He snaps to attention when he hears the news reporter start talking about the Vagabond, and Ray watches the screen intently as he waits. He ignores the way that they talk about him, instead peering at the screen to see the usual corpse and flower ordeal— a single rose, neatly held between the victim's hand: peach colored, a signal of gratitude, appreciation.

Ray snorts— most people would probably freak out, but Ray just feels a little warm inside (and more relief...and maybe a little touched).

**[To: Ryebread]** You’re welcome, dumbass.

* * *

Ray likes having regular customers.

For one, that means he knows that there will always be some income that he can kind of depend on coming in on a regular basis, but it’s also nice because he gets to know some people at least by face, if not by a regular name basis; which meant he felt like he was making some sort of connection to people which was nice. It was at least proof that he wasn’t completely hopeless at making basic human connections.

Generally speaking, he also often ends up doing so by accident, doing something to catch someone’s attention and getting them to stick around. He’d like to say that’s how he got Ryan’s attention, but it’s definitely how he gets the recognition of one Jack Pattillo.

(When she first introduces herself, Ray thinks it’s a weird name for a lady but hey, who was he to judge? It was 2017 people, why should he care about gender norms? Let people live their lives and shit; he was fine with just chilling, getting high with his not crush that was also a wanted criminal).

Crime isn’t uncommon around Los Santos, but all things considered, it’s surprisingly rare for them to have to deal with any break-ins.

Ray usually deals with it rather simply, grabbing the sniper rifle from under the counter and shoots a warning shot past whoever decided to break in to scare them off.

Jack approaches him, gaze analytical. “Are you a sniper?” She asks, as if what he did was the most normal thing, and Ray laughs at that, because _man_ he could be if he wanted to, but he also thinks if he even considered that, Ryan would come to (hopefully not literally) kill him.

(Which, in that theoretical situation, Ray would just tell him it’s his fault for enabling him by the means of providing him with a sniper rifle).

“Nah, just a bored kid with a good shot.” He grins, and she leaves it at that, nodding before asking him for his opinion on some flowers.

He gives her a thumbs up as she leaves with some hibiscus’.

* * *

“Meg has an idea.” Ryan informs Ray during one of their Sunday gaming sessions.

After that first ‘incident’ (as Ray had aptly dubbed it), Ryan had properly introduced Meg and Ray to each other. She’d also started joining their get togethers on occasion.

Ray had been jealous of her, initially. It was silly, something like a teenager, but he envied the fact that Meg probably knew Ryan better than he did.

His jealousy (mostly) dissipates fairly quickly, because it becomes very obvious to him that their relationship is more like close siblings— and therefore, was no threat to him.

“Ryan, if it's like the last time, _no_ .” Because sure, Ray doesn’t mind Meg, but her ideas? That was another thing altogether. The last time Ryan had said something along those lines, the three of them almost got arrested _and_ Ray had bruises for more than a week with no legal explanation for Michael. So maybe he almost died with that whole uncaring about his self-preservation thing, but Ray doesn’t have that much of a death wish, even if it was a little thrilling.

(And okay, Ryan was also really upset over Ray getting hurt, and that’s really why that’s probably not happening again).

Ryan snorts, shaking his head. “No, no. Meg...Meg and I have an acquaintance— well, a close friend to her— she thinks that he might get on well with Michael. Ray raises a brow at that, because Meg’s never been in the shop (well, kind of, you know, besides whenever Ryan almost not really dies and bleeds out all over his backroom), let alone meet Michael.

“Could you care to share the details on this acquaintance of yours?” They’re making dinner— and by that, he really means Ryan’s cooking while Ray just watches and grabs things for him upon request.

“I don’t know if you’d have heard of him, but...he’s called the Golden Boy around here.” Ray promptly chokes on his spit.

“Are you telling me that Meg wants to set up my best friend with a con artist?”

“I thought I was your best friend.” Despite the pout (why is it that such a handsome man can also pout so cutely? Ray would like to formally quit), it’s clear that Ryan doesn’t sound offended, just joking— he doesn’t respond to that comment because yeah they were, but also no, Ray would like it if there was something to it other than friends. “I tried telling her that, but you know how she is. I figured I should say something to you before she does.”

Ray sighs, throwing his hands up in the air. “Why the fuck not, sure. Tell her to send him over, just tell me when so I can stay out.”

* * *

Meg picks a nice Thursday to send the guy over— so Ray makes a ‘delivery’— which technically isn’t a lie, it just turns into a quick delivery and then smoking for a little while because he doesn’t know how long he needs to stall and he’s bored.

(He doesn’t even blink an eye when Michael scolds him for getting high in the middle of the day because fuck you that's why; did you know he can still fire your ass, Michael—)

The Golden Boy— Gavin, as Ray is informed— isn’t aware of Ryan’s involvement in this whole thing for the most part. Apparently, Meg’s idea of a good setup was literally as simple as requesting him to pick up some flowers from the shop because, “I heard good things about this shop from someone but I’m too busy to go so please go check it out for me and maybe get me some nice flowers?” Ray had to admit, she was sly in at least that regard.

Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly) Meg is correct, in that they hit things off well from fairly early on. And as the weeks go by, Gavin makes his presence more often and better known to them. Ray dislikes this in the fact that, for whatever reason that he doesn’t really know or understand, Ryan can’t be around the shop at the same time as Gavin, but he keeps quiet about his complaints because he was doing this for Michael’s sake and he got to still see Ryan anyways even if it messes around with their usual routine.

Business is running smoothly, Michael seems to be content with his newfound friendship, and Ray’s happy to have Ryan’s friendship.

* * *

Ray is happy until, well, he isn’t.

It’s a sudden thing, the fight. Him and Ryan don’t ever really fight, not seriously at least. It isn’t over something dumb like it usually is, something as small as whether they should have takeout or try and cook dinner, or who accidentally hit the tv remote and changed the channel, or who took the last diet coke—

But they fight because Ray’s frustrated over the overprotective way Ryan treats him and Ryan calls him a hypocrite because Ray worries over the slightest injury he sees on him even though it’s just part of his job, and that he can handle himself, to which Ray responds that so can he, that he doesn’t need Ryan babying him just because things might be a little dangerous.

They fight, and it’s loud. It’s loud and Ray’s yelling and screaming until his voice is going hoarse. Ray isn’t one to let his emotions get to the best of him, he is always calm and mellow, existing on a constant high even without any weed.

And Ryan yells back at him— but it’s not a loud kind of yelling, it’s low and deep and intimidating; a tone he hadn’t ever heard from him before.

For once, in the entire time he’s known Ryan, he’s scared of the Vagabond, of his anger (deep down he wants to believe that anger won’t turn on him, that Ryan would never hurt him—)

To show that much emotion is startling for the both of them.

Ray is tired and frustrated and shaking (and maybe even almost crying) when he flees Ryan’s place and returns back to the shop. He ignores the buzz of his phone and delves himself back into his work and ignores the raised brow he gets from Michael.

Meg attempts to talk to him, act like a middle ground in between them, but he makes it clear that he just needs to calm down first. It’s a lie, they both know it, but for once in the time he’s known her, Meg Turney doesn’t push or pry and lets him be.

Ryan stops trying to call him after the third day of the silent treatment.

Ray stops feeling alive.

(It scares him, because he doesn’t know when he started feeling that way).

* * *

Ray Narvaez Jr. had to be one of the most infuriatingly stubborn people Ryan has ever had the (dis)pleasure of meeting.

He’d never thought he was capable of holding onto a grudge like this— but of course, like the rest of his personality, Ray willfully holds onto a grudge like he may die. Or at the very least, that’s the impression Ryan gets since he won’t say anything to him.

So Ryan figures, he might as well go about other ways of communicating with Ray. It wasn’t one that was anything new, no. It was quite a common thing to do between them.

Ryan always fell back on communicating to Ray through flowers— for a variety of reason, because he wanted the message to stand out, or because he felt it to be fitting. It always felt like nice symbolism, given how important they were to Ray.

And that’s why, a week after their initial argument, Ryan finds himself on the rooftop of a shop across the street from the flowershop, watching. Ryan knows Rays normal schedule fairly well— he knew he’d be leaving the shop soon to make deliveries to one of his regulars, and Ryan could go in and buy flowers while he was gone.

You see, Ryan rarely gave Ray flowers— not directly, at least. He found it unnecessary to do so, when Ray had a shop full of them. Indirect messages were always more of his style anyways.

Still, there’s a little bit of hesitance as he steps into the shop, Ryan can count on one hand the number of times he’s talked to Michael (it’s zero, because Ray always insists on taking care of his stuff and none of them really care to change that fact). It’s weird, but almost fitting that it would be under this kind of circumstance that they first talk.

“If you’re looking for Ray, he’s not here.” Michael says, barely sparing him a glance as he focuses on the plants he was sorting through. Ryan knows this, he knows and that’s why he is here, he wants to say, but instead just clears his throat to get his attention.

“I know.” He says bluntly, shrugging in an attempt to make it seem like his visit is casual despite it not being that, he knows it can’t be when his presence has been absent lately, and he’s glad that Michael doesn’t press or question and just accepts that he’s here and helps him with what he wants.

Michael starts to reach for the roses that make up his usual selection, the one that Ray’s made for him almost daily for the past few months— Ryan is quick to stop him and correct him on what he wants instead today. He receives a quirk of a brow, but again just stays quiet and rings up his order.

Ryan watches him go back to what he’d been working on before, and something occurs to Ryan as he’s getting ready to leave, a conversation he and Meg had been having the other day.

“Michael.” Ryan is amused to see him jump, and continues speaking without waiting for a response “You should really ask Gavin about his job. It might be important for you to know one day.” Ryan ignores the fact that what he just said was awfully hypocritical— because he hadn’t said a thing to Ray, Ryan set up the game and placed the pieces down in reach, and Ray took the pieces and solved the puzzle and approached him about it.

Speaking of which...

Ryan leaves to put his plan into action.

* * *

“Your favorite person stopped by the shop while you were out doing deliveries earlier.” Michael comments offhandedly later that night, during a round of Halo— Ray tries to hide the disappointment on his face as his stomach sinks and he murders Michael's character out of frustration.

“Did he say anything?” Ray asks, trying to seem casual about it and not at all as desperate as he feels. He knows that he should be the one saying something, break the silence and acknowledge that no matter how angry he was, now he’s just being childish, petty— but he’s stubborn. That will probably be the other thing that kills him, one of these days; if his lack of caring isn’t what does him in first.

Michael hesitates— it's long enough that Ray knows he’s lying, Ryan has said something— before responding. “No. Just bought some stuff and left, it wasn’t even his usual. He didn’t seem to care that you weren’t around, now that I think about it.”

It’s enough of a tip-off that Ray knows Ryan must be up to something, another one of his games surely, and excuses himself as soon as the round is over, saying that he’s tired. Michael just gives him a knowing look before resuming to play the game on his own.

Ray retires to his ‘room’ and quickly turns on the news, grabbing his laptop to look up the Vagabond, see what he’s doing; see which will tell him first about what he needs to know.

The internet is as reliable as he expects, and quickly brings up a news report of a crime committed by the Vagabond just over an hour ago, quickly scanning the report for any words or images that seemed important.

Three murders, three messages written in their blood

_I’m sorry, know you mean well_

_Don’t want you to end up like us_

_Forgive me?_

All accompanied by flowers, purple hyacinths: forgiveness.

It’s not the first time the Vagabond has put messages to accompany his crimes— sometimes it's a warning to other criminals in the area, sometimes it's silly messages (it confuses the hell out of the news reports, much to their amusement). Nothing ever like this— but then again, they’ve never fought either.

The news speculates he and Dollface must be fighting, she was the criminal most known to accompany Vagabond, but Ray knows better, knows that the message was meant for him.

**[To: Ryebread]** Apology accepted, asshole. See you tomorrow?

**[From: Ryebread]** I’ll be there.

The reply is almost instant, and just those words make Ray smile and feel better.

(Ray forgets to ask Ryan about what he said to Michael).

* * *

Things return to normal for the most part, after that. Ryan comes by the shop, Ray hangs out at his place, and Ryan sometimes needs Ray to patch him up (and Ray tries not to worry, or at the very least get on his case about it too much).

Ray watches Gavin and Michael grow closer— part of him amused and partially awed about how spot on Meg was. He definitely doesn’t feel jealous at all. Nope. He’s not jealous, what are you talking about? That’s ridiculous, he has no reason to be jealous.

(Stupid dashing and charming Ryan—)

Still, Ray watches over them because Meg wants someone to give her updates about how they're doing (at one point, they joke about starting a bet about how long it’ll take them).

Eventually, she deems that they’re doing well enough that she can make an appearance in the shop— so she does, bringing Gavin around during Ryan’s usual time, and joining them— the three of them (not so) discreetly watch the duo.

Ray can see the look Michael gives them, and he just smiles at him innocently and amusedly watches Gavin fight to get his attention back and pulled into their own conversation. He turns towards Meg, a bit curious. “What’s up with them?”

Meg smirks. “Just watch and wait. We’ll see.”

Ryan and Ray exchange a glance before resuming the side conversation they’d been having before, occasionally surveying the others. Ray watches in amusement as Gavin yells across the shop at Meg, who responds by flipping him off. He wonders what that’s all about, but he shrugged it off as nothing important. Probably.

And then before he knows it, Gavin is gone and seconds later Meg is running out after him, and Ryan has just enough time to quietly bid him farewell before chasing after them.

….Well, that was interesting.

* * *

Several days later, Michael confronts him, seeming to be in a rather huffy mood.

“Ray, what the fuck are you thinking?” Ray raises a brow, making a gesture for him to clarify what exactly he’s talking about, briefly glancing at his face before focusing back on his GTA race.

Michael sighs, giving him a pointed look. “What on earth makes you think it’s a good idea to be friends with one of the most wanted men in Los Santos.”

Ray shrugs. It wasn’t probably a good idea, if he was to be honest. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because he’s nice and hot? Fucking YOLO man. Plus I haven’t died yet so I mean, so I think all things considered, my chances of survival are pretty good.”

“Ray, your lack of self-preservation is really going to get you in trouble one of these days.” Michael says, another sigh of exasperation slipping past his lips.

Ray knows. He doesn't care anymore, he hasn’t for a long time— he doesn’t care for much these days except for Ryan Haywood. It was a beautifully tragic thing.

(Oh, and Michael and Gavin started dating, so Ray owes Meg a twenty, but Ryan owes him a fifty and jokingly offers him a blowjob instead, so it’s all good).

* * *

Really, Ryan and Ray should have seen this coming, after Meg’s ‘success’ with getting Michael and Gavin together.

They don’t see it coming, but Ryan knows Meg well enough to catch on to what she’s trying to do. So he confronts her about it, because he doubts that she can pull it off twice, it was enough of a miracle she succeeded once.

“You really shouldn’t meddle in these kind of matters.” Ryan warns, not in a threatening sort of way, but more like a  ‘I’m worried you’ll actually get in trouble one of these days’ that you’d probably get from your parents or an older sibling. She whines and pouts at him.

“But if I wait on you two, you’ll never make any progress.”

Ryan sighs. “There’s nothing between us for you to be pressing.” (...right?) “And anyways, Ray deserves someone that isn’t a risk to his well-being.” He adds on as an afterthought. The fact that he’s not in complete denial of this fact should be more alarming in itself, but it’s not. Meg can probably take that as a small victory at best.

Meg just stares at him. “Do you really believe that?” He does.

She concedes and says she’ll mind her own business.

(They both know better than to believe that).

* * *

Michael more properly introduces Gavin and Ray to each other after they start dating. Ray thinks Gavin is okay— a little annoying, a little clingy, but he can see why Meg considers him a friend, while Ryan only considers him to be an acquaintance (it’s more complicated than that, though Ray doesn’t know it).

He can also see why Michael is so fond of him and tries not to be jealous because he wants to be happy for his best friend but—

Gavin often gets dragged into Michael and Ray’s gaming nights, which ends up getting nicknamed as ‘lads night’. It’s fun when Ray doesn’t end up feeling like a third wheel to a date night— he usually flees to Ryan’s place when it starts getting too much for him to handle.

It doesn’t matter if he’s home or out and about doing Vagabond things, because Ray got a key to the place long ago— so sometimes Ryan comes home to Ray sitting on his couch playing some obscure game he didn’t even know he had.

( “You’re welcome for the boost in gamerscore, Ry. No need to thank me.” Ray would always say before the controller was wrestled out of his grip).

Today’s one of those nights, where Gavin and Michael are being disgustingly affectionate and Ryan’s not home, so Ray makes himself at home on the couch and loads up some good old Worms for fun.

* * *

Ryan had given Ray a key to his place because, well...he wasn’t quite sure, exactly. A sign of friendship, he supposed, considering the only other person he trusts with that information is Meg. It’s nice because sometimes, he’ll be greeted with the sight of Ray having fun kicking people’s asses on some game or another, and Ryan will know he’s probably there because Gavin and Michael are spending time together.

(Ray has complained to Ryan on a multitude of occasions of how he finds himself being pushed out of his own place, and Ryan can’t help but wonder if Meg’s putting them up to this).

Other times, Ryan will return so late that Ray’s passed out on the couch, TV still on; and he’ll grab a spare blanket to drape over him, take off his glasses, and turn off the TV before going to clean up and go to sleep himself.

Today is one days that fall into a third category of things that might rarely occur when Ryan returns home. The TV is off, things are more or less in place of where he’s left them— the couch pillows being knocked astray are the only indication that someone had been there. And if he goes further, to his bedroom, he’ll find Ray asleep, claiming Ryan’s bed as his for the night. Every time Ryan will surrender it to him and sleep on the couch instead (despite the fact there was a spare bedroom that was perfectly usable).

Ryan smiles, making sure the boy is tucked in and glasses kept safe from being broken in his sleep; running a gentle hand through his hair and watches him lean into the gesture subconsciously. He pulls back though, careful to not disturb Ray, before slinking back out to the main part of the house.

* * *

Ray kind of hates the fact that Meg and Michael get along extremely well. Then again, that might also be because he has a slight love-hate relationship with Meg, what could he say?

“You guys might as well be dating, honestly.” Michael has recently taken upon himself to poke fun at him and egg him on, and Ray just rolls his eyes and snorts.

“Listen, we’re friends, that’s all. I love him, but no homo you know.” Ray’s joking, though it's painful because he knows Michael kind of has a point.

“Ray, all the homo— are you aware of how you look at him?”

“I mean, I’d suck his dick if that’s what you mean.”

“Yeah, pretty sure that isn’t all you’d do to him if one of you two would just grow a pair already.” Michael scoffs, and Ray mocks a scowl.

“No, because sucking dick isn’t gay, anything more is.”

“Or you could just accept that you’re super gay for the dude and wanna bang him.” Ray actually scowls this time; he hates when Michael’s right, and wonders when his ‘crush’ got so obvious.

Michael sighs when Ray doesn’t make any sort of bantering remarks in response. “Look, just sort it out before one of you gets hurt. I’m not going to pick up the pieces.” That’s a lie, Ray knows Michael would do so if things were to go in that direction— but he doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to watch Ray get hurt if he doesn’t have to.

Ray doesn’t comment as he watches his character die.

* * *

Ray both likes and dislikes autumn. He likes the pretty colors of the leaves falling, he is less fond of the cool weather that comes with the change in seasons (Los Santos is warmer than New York was, thankfully).

Ray brings in a different selection of flowers and plants for the new season, which really just means stuff that fits for the upcoming holiday season.

He grumbles to himself about how he needs to invest in warmer clothing as they drive along the  San Chianski Mountain Range, because he’s surprised he hasn’t fallen off the bike with how much he’s shaking. Ryan laughs and stops the bike on the side of the road, telling Ray to sit in front of him— which apparently translates to sitting on Ryan’s lap more or less, pulling Ray back against his chest and wrapping his jacket around him.

“Better?” Ryan asks, and Ray nods because he’s speechless, of course he’s much better as he settles against him. Ray is warmer, alright— of course, he’s pretty sure there are multiple reasons for that. He’s swimming in the scent he usually associates with Ryan (the mixture of cigarettes and leather)— he’s breathless and his head is light, like he might pass out at any given moment, and Ray can only imagine how badly he’s blushing.

They reach their destination, and Ray reluctantly moves off of his lap to get off of the bike— he flinches at the sudden harsh cold and shivers, but that lasts only momentarily because Ryan’s wrapping his jacket around him again and Ray thinks he might be ready to die out of embarrassment.

At the end of the night, Ray hops back on the front of the bike instead of the back like he usually does, and Ryan drives him back home. He starts to shrug off the jacket when he gets off of the bike, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Keep it.” Ryan smiles at him. “It looks like it fits you better.”

Ray mumbles a thanks and ignores the thudding in his chest, the twisting of his stomach as he heads inside.

Michael just smirks at him when he seems him. “Just friends, huh?”

(Ray makes sure to not so discreetly return the jacket at a later time, while he’s over at Ryan’s place; so he can have an excuse to steal his warmth on later occasions).

* * *

It’s not surprising for crimes to occur at the flowershop— this was Los Santos for christ’s sake.

It’s not surprising but it’s surprisingly pretty rare, since Ray just has to grab his rifle and shoot to scare off whatever unfortunate soul decided to try and rob them.

That’s not how it goes today.

Ray’s away from the counter and assisting one of their more elderly customers and Michael’s in the backroom when the door slams open and a man barges in; waving a gun around and starts yelling, what exactly he’s searching around for Ray isn’t quite sure.

He panics because shit what is he supposed to do and he sincerely hopes Michael is smart enough to stay in the back.

The man is cut off mid-speech, a hand grabbing the man’s head and slamming it into the wall, effectively knocking them out. Ray is relieved if not a bit awed to see his savior, a familiar face in her normal Hawaiian shirt and shorts attire. Jack just smiles down at him, signature hibiscus tucked neatly in her hair, behind her ear.

“Just tell the Vagabond he’s welcome.” Despite the warm tone, the clear intention the words were meant to be friendly; Ray feels his blood runs cold as he watches her leave.

Ryan’s face goes all stony when he relays the message to him and inquires about her— the most he can get out of him is ‘Fakes’ and ‘dangerous’, and Ray rolls his eyes because he can’t tell if he’s exaggerating or not.

Meg is only slightly more helpful, in the sense that she somewhat articulates that Jack is someone that she, Gavin, and Ryan have all worked with at some point or another, but doesn’t really offer anything more than that. Which is probably for the best— the less involved he is, the better.

(He wonders how the heck they manage to have so many customers that happen to be criminals— then again, they lived in Los Santos, so really it makes sense).

* * *

Ray watches in confusion as Gavin enters the shop with a bag and a ladder— shooting a confused look in Michael’s direction.

“Michael, what on earth is your boyfriend doing?”

“Putting in security cameras.” Michael responds like this is the most normal thing to happen in their shop.

“Why.” He asks flatly.

“Because this is Los Santos?”

(He’s got a point)

“Why now?”

“Why not now?” Michael counters. “Seriously, I don’t know. Go ask him if you want to know.”

Ray decides he doesn’t really want to know, it’s probably nothing big anyways, and notes with some amusement that Gavin’s starting to hang up some mistletoe around the shop as well, despite the fact that Halloween was two weeks ago and it’s not even close to being considered Christmas season.

* * *

Because Meg and Gavin and Michael and Ray and himself are all friends, in one way or another all have some sort of connection to each other, it’s unsurprising that they all end up hanging out with each other— though this is a rarer thing, because usually if Michael isn’t working, then Ray is, and vice versa. Thus, making it nearly impossible for all five of them to actually be together at the same time.

But today they are, because the shop is closed for some holiday or another (that Ray had wanted to keep it open for, but knew that it was unlikely they would get much business if any at all).

Meg makes the suggestion in advance, that they should go ice skating because it’s that time of year. Agreeing to go is Ryan’s first mistake— he’s never gone skating (of any kind) a day in his life.

Ryan can tell that Ray is reluctant, because he hates going out, let alone going out in a group— but it doesn’t take very much for Ryan to coax him into agreeing.

He quickly grows to regret that and share Ray’s sentiment about the hang out when he catches on (too late) to what Meg’s bigger plan was.

Despite the fact that Ryan had a fine sense of balance, it didn’t stop him from clinging onto Ray’s arm— who in turn, was snorting about the fact that ‘Look guys, it’s one of Los Santos’ most wanted and feared criminals, and he’s clinging to me like he might die’. Although, for his part, Ryan was actually doing his best to not be too dependent on the other, unlike Ray who was keeping close to him for warmth.

(Ryan swore he was honestly going to get the kid a proper jacket, one of these days).

That being said, it didn’t help that Michael and Gavin would purposefully make sure to bump into them to make his balance even worse than it was. Meg was kind of nicer, a bit more subtle, skating in loops around them and commenting on how cute they looked— to which Ryan would give her a very pointed look, because he could tell it was making Ray uncomfortable.

After a while, Ryan excused himself to go stand to the side, so that Ray could actually skate— which also didn’t last very long because Ray complained about being too cold and that Michael was being a prick. Ryan pointed out that if he was moving enough he could warm up, to which he was told to shut up as Ray went back to using him as a human heater.

He quietly gushes to himself because Ray is absolutely adorable, and he’d like to say this aloud because he knows how stubbornly Ray will disagree, but with the other’s around he doesn’t need them eavesdropping and teasing and generally just making things worse. Besides, he still had some reputation as one of the scariest criminals in Los Santos to upkeep, and thus keeps his expression more or less empty and keeps all gushing over Ray internally.

(That being said, the handholding felt almost natural—)

The others join them not too long later, though that’s not by choice, but because they were forced off the rink so it could be resurfaced.

“I feel like I’m the fifth wheel here, guys. I’m going to have to get a date to start bringing.” Meg whines in (a nonserious) complaint— Ryan briefly pauses because he could’ve sworn Meg had mentioned having someone before.

“You can have Lindsay, Meg. I’m sure she’d love to sixth wheel with you.” Michael chimes in helpfully.

Neither Ryan or Ray have anything to say to that, averting their gazes and subtly scooting away from each other.

(Gavin, Michael, and Meg share a look and grin).

* * *

Ryan likes the wintertime— well, the snow really; compared to what they had back home.

Ryan doesn’t realize that it's the holiday season, Christmas just weeks away, until Meg mentions it. He usually only remembers holidays because they’ll be talked about by practically everyone. Birthdays, on the other hand, he remembers birthdays once in a blue moon (it’s even rarer that he remembers his own). She asks if he’s planning on doing anything, going anywhere (she should know the answer, because it’s been the same for the past three years she’s known him).

Ryan informs her that he doesn’t, and then she asks if he’s getting anything for Ray.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it— well, kind of. He hadn’t thought about it recently. So he shakes his head and she lets out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re doing a great job at wooing him.” She says sarcastically and he rolls his eyes. Honestly, when would she let up on that?

Ryan manages to forget about the topic again until he finds Ray at the front door, shivering and looking dead tired on his feet, and Ryan ushers him inside, wondering what brought him there. Ray shuffles his feet before pulling a thin box out from his jacket— where had he been hiding that?

“Meg said it's your birthday.” He mumbles as a means of explanation, and Ryan thanks him profusely before insisting Ray stays the night or let him drive him back, because he doesn’t want him to fall asleep and get himself hurt. Ray opts for the former, padding down the hallway to claim the bedroom.

Ryan doesn’t really care about birthdays, especially his own, but he’s touched and knows he needs to return the favor.

(And just shy of three weeks later, Ryan does in the form of a Christmas present: a nice, thick and warm jacket that’s just a slight bit big for Ray, but the flushed cheeks and bright smile tells Ryan that he likes it more than any words could communicate that message).

* * *

Gavin is incredibly nosy and pushy, especially with the inhibition that being drunk gives people.

“But, but Raaaay. X-Raayyyyy. Don’t you like Ryan?” Gavin’s leaning on him because Michael’s on the floor passed out, and Ray’s trying to not make a face at the strong scent of alcohol on his breath. Ugh, he should’ve left the minute they’d started to drink.

“Of course I do Gavin, that’s why we’re friends.” Ray sighs, trying to pry him off his shoulder.

“Not like th-that, you doughnut. Like…like Micoooo and I, Ray. Don’t you?” Gavin sounds confused and Ray scowls, reminds himself that Gavin’s just a drunken moron, that he didn’t know what he was on about—

“You’re tired Gav, come on. We should get you and Michael to bed.” Thankfully, in his drunken stupor, Gavin is distracted by the mention of Michael, starting to babble about him rather incoherently. Not that it matters really, because Ray isn’t listening.

_Don’t you?_

He does.

* * *

Ryan isn’t one for keeping track of dates, really. The fact he can’t keep track of even his own birthday is enough testament to that fact.

It has to be a weird coincidence that he realizes that it’s almost exactly a year to the day he met Ray...and decided not to kill him, minor details.

(It’s probably just a subconscious thing, that he remembers—)

He wonders if he should say anything— it's such a small, silly thing to point out— which is really the kind of thing he knew Ray would get a laugh out of.

(On the day of, Ray finds a bouquet of roses with the note, ‘Happy one year anniversary of not dying’.

As expected, he makes sure to tell Ryan how much he loves it).

* * *

It’s really relaxing to get to unwind and lose track of time with Ryan, talk and laugh and game until ungodly hours in the morning.

They lose track of time too easily one night, and they end up passing out on the couch at some point— Ray doesn’t know because he wakes up, pressed up close to Ryan’s chest, practically cuddling with him. He breathes in sharply and immediately regrets that because he gets attacked by his scent, and Ray’s pretty sure his face couldn’t be any redder and prays that the other doesn’t wake up because he can’t handle that right now. There’s a crick in his neck and his back feels a little stiff, and oh, his heart feels like it might be pounding out of his chest; but other than that he’s fine, completely and totally (not) fine. He buries his face into his chest and hopes he can go back to sleep before Ryan wakes up so he doesn’t have to deal with any awkward situation arising—

Unfortunately, Ray and life don’t get along very well, so that doesn’t happen because Ray’s phone starts ringing obnoxiously loud at that moment, and he curses as he makes a grab for it (behind him, he can hear Ryan shift and groan).

“Thank god you picked up, motherfucker; I thought you were dead! Where the fuck are you, Ray?! We open up shop in a half hour!” Michael’s screaming at him, and Ray winces as he sits up and quickly stretches.

“No mom, I’m not dead yet. I’ll be home in time to open up shop, thanks I love you too bye.” Ray speaks quickly so that the other can’t get in a word in edgewise, looking around for his shoes while he holds the phone to his ear. A very sleepy Ryan points out with amusement that he’s wearing them, and he almost facepalms as he thanks him before rushing out of the house before anything else can be said.

(Ray can’t meet Ryan’s gaze when he stops by later on in the day, unable to forget the way he’d woken up, snug and content and safe—

And in a way he couldn’t have him).

* * *

Ray has a love-hate for the summer. On one hand, he loves it because it’s better than cold York winters, but Los Santos is much warmer in the summer than he’s used to.

Ryan suggests that on his nest day off, they go to the beach— something which Ray wastes no time in agreeing to because like hell if he’s passing up the chance to see Ryan shirtless (and not bleeding all over the shop floor for once).

Ryan picks him up pretty early in the morning, so they can get there before the beach gets too busy (Michael makes some joking ‘remarks’ about it being a date, thankfully out of Ryan’s earshot). He’s not driving his bike today, instead pulling up in a Zentorno— Ray wasn’t aware that he had anything other than that damn Adder, but he supposes that a car would be better than a bike for today.

It’s actually really nice and relaxing- the water is nice and cool, and Ryan makes sure he gets out of the water to reapply sunscreen and not get all burnt. He’s pretty sure Ryan’s the one who really needs to worry about burning up with how pale he is, but he’s not going to complain about being treated like this (that being said, Ray makes sure he does the same for him).

Ryan makes sure to get all the places he can’t reach— aka, his entire back— and he thinks Ryan probably gives good back massages and tells him this. He laughs and promises to test that thought for him another day.

They stay out of the water they eat a late lunch around mid-afternoon, and lounge around on a towel under the shade of an umbrella.

Ray ends up dozing off at some point, waking up rather confused after falling from where he’d apparently been leaning against Ryan’s shoulder.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to bother you.” Ryan sounds sheepish for whatever reason as he hands Ray his glasses, and he fixes them back in place before peering up at the other. “You want to head back? I don’t want you to get sunburnt if you fall asleep again.”

Ray hesitates to answer— on one hand it was probably not a bad idea to head home, but on the other hand he felt bad for falling asleep when Ryan had brought him out here so they can hang out. Ryan seems to sense his reluctance to head back so soon, because he suggests that they head over to the pier to hang out for a bit, since they’re basically already there. Ray’s quick to agree to that, so they pack up their stuff and head over to the pier so they can hit up the arcade.

The arcade feels like home, really, so Ryan and Ray blend in well and can relax as they challenge each other to game after game.

After all that, on their way out off of the docks, they pass by an obnoxious touristy shop— and Ray can’t help but stop to point out a silly looking mask.

“Hey, Rye, look. We should get a matching set.” Ray’s joking, but that sort of backfires on him as Ryan raises a brow and seems to contemplate it.

“You want it? I’ll buy it for you.” He chokes on his spit and quickly stops him before he can do so, but they do settle on a pair of (slightly) less tacky shirts to get instead, at Ryan's insistence.

“You two are real cute together.” The cashier interrupts them, mid faux fight over who was going to pay. That stops any further argument, and he notices that Ryan is tense and silent.

“Oh no, no. W-We’re just friends.” Ray manages to choke out, in a totally unconvincing way that makes him want to hit himself.

She raises a brow at that and remarks, “Never said you weren’t.”

(They couldn’t be cute together because that would be gay and that would make this a date, which this definitely wasn’t because no homo, right?

…Right?)

* * *

Fourth of July weekend means Los Santos is busy. It means that there are lots of people around just for the holiday, which makes entirely no sense to Ryan, but also means he has to stay on the low down as far as his usual activities go.

So instead, because he has nothing better to be doing, he takes Ray up to Mount Chilliad for the night. Ray gets quickly distracted by checking up on the roses, which had become somewhat of a shared responsibility between them to take care of.

The distraction allows Ryan enough time to set up some fireworks, and he’s grinning smugly at the awed reaction that he gets.

“Ryan, how on earth did you get these? Are they even legal here?” Ray asks as he turns a bottle rocket over in his hands, sounding as amazed as he looks, and Ryan wiggles his brows at him.

“This is Los Santos, what do you think? Besides, since when have I been known to stick to the legal boundaries of things?” Their banter is playful, though he has to be quick to show the other how to actually handle the firework before he hurts himself.

All in all, the evening is fun, no one gets hurt, and Ryan’s chest swells as he watches Ray launch another firework with a whoop of laughter.

* * *

“You’re going on vacation.” Michael announces out of the blue, breaking the silence that had fallen between them— Ray pauses his game and shuts his DS closed that he can look at the other with a raised brow.

“Excuse me?” Ray says, wondering when this decision had been made. “I kind of have a business to run, Michael.”

“Meg and Gavin have already offered to cover your absence. Including your weed shit.”  He says simply, and Ray knows that Michael must be really serious about this— and thus will be stubborn, clearly having thought this out extensively. The exclusion of someone in particular is what stands out to Ray as a potential flaw in his planning.

“What about Ryan?” Ray blurts out his thoughts, and regrets it when Michael smirks at him.

“He’s going to make sure you don’t die by going with you.”

“Thanks mom, but I don’t need a babysitter.” Ray remarks dryly, crossing his arms. “Have you even asked him? He might be kinda busy with the entire hired criminal thing he has going on, you know.”

“No, but I don’t need to.” Michael sounds smug. “He’ll agree because if it’s for you.”

Michael turns out to be right about that (unsurprisingly), because when Ray asks, Ryan agrees with little hesitance whatsoever.

They decide to just take a road trip up north— because Ray admits he hasn’t really ever been outside of Los Santos (you know, besides his neighborhood back home in New York, anyways), and Ryan likes to drive so it works out.

(Sure, Ray can drive, but he’s so used to being driven around by Ryan all the time that it seems natural that this is how things work out, especially since Ryan doesn’t seem to care).

Ray can relax in the passenger seat and stare out the window as they speed down vast spaces and empty roads unfamiliar to Ray and just talk. Ryan stops on occasion so they can sightsee, and during the nights Ryan will lie down next to him and point out stars to him like that one night so long ago, on Mount Chiliad, and tells him stories about the stars.

(Ray thinks that when he’s talking, Ryan’s eyes shine brighter than any of the stars he’s talking about, and indulges him in listening even if Ray’s got no clue what’s being said to him).

And at night, when Ryan has fallen asleep and Ray can’t sleep, he watches the rise and fall of his chest, how naturally relaxed his face was, and how comfortable he seems despite it just being the two of them, out in practically the middle of nowhere. Ray watches and thinks about how lucky he is to have Ryan as a friend.

(By the end of the trip, Ray decides he’s selfish and wants more).

* * *

Ray might have decided to go fuck it to their friendship and go for an actual relationship, but that is easy to say but less easy to actually do, as he quickly learns.

He contemplates asking Michael or Meg for help— then decides he doesn't want their help because however helpful it might be, it will also be very smug and unhelpful in that sense. So Ray decides he’ll just struggle through it himself.

He tries to be subtle. He really does. But Ray has no tact and when being subtle gets no results (he can’t tell if Ryan's oblivious or just ignoring it), he has to change plans.

“Michael, do you think he’ll get the message if I give him a bouquet of rainbow roses?” Ray’s (mostly) joking, but offers the question to Michael for at least a good laugh.

Michael scoffs at him with a roll of his eyes. “I’m pretty sure he’d get the message even without the gay ass flowers. Do you even realize how transparent you are, Ray?”

“Michael, that's rude.” He frowns, deciding to at least give it a go— he can always fall back on it being a joke if all else fails.

...Of course, Ryan does think it's just a joke and uses it for his next victim. Which results in some amusing headlines in the news, so Ray supposes it’s not all bad, even if that wasn’t really what he wanted.

Ray’s frustration finally culminates after a few different attempts at being unsubtle about it; he’s tired of having no clue what’s going on in Ryan’s mind and how he feels and waiting around and hoping he’ll make a move.

So Ray just goes for it one day, after internally giving himself a pep talk and working up the courage— and of course, being tactless, he doesn't bother with any sort of small talk, confrontation, or confession.

Nah, Ray just grabs onto Ryan’s shirt and kisses him. Real smooth, Ray.

(But it works, so hey you gotta at least give him that).

He grins when they finally part, a little breathless and giddy that finally, all his efforts have proved to not be a complete waste of time. “So like, we aren’t telling any of those fuckers about this anytime soon, right?” Ryan grins back at him.

“I’ll give them a month before they catch on.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this, ily <3


End file.
